


Time to Begin Again

by Lugo



Series: Begin Again [1]
Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera - Gaston Leroux, Phantom of the Opera - Lloyd Webber
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-14
Updated: 2020-06-12
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:06:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 19,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24180289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lugo/pseuds/Lugo
Summary: Years after the events of Phantom of the Opera, Erik decides he can't continue on as he is and goes on a journey to find Christine in hope of a reconciliation.
Relationships: Christine Daaé & Erik | Phantom of the Opera, Christine Daaé/Erik | Phantom of the Opera
Series: Begin Again [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2147925
Comments: 18
Kudos: 59





	1. Out of the Darkness

It had taken years to get to this point. All of his cunning and stealth, gleaning information from wherever he could. Now, it had all come together, all of the work, the waiting, the longing... Now, he had a chance to see her again and everything could change. And of course, he was terrified. On the one hand, it might be closure, to confirm that he’d made the right choice by letting her go...On the other hand, it might just bring back the heart-wrenching pain from all those years ago, and he just wasn’t sure if he could do it again. It was too late now, though, as he crept ever closer to the building looming in the darkness ahead of him. The Viscount’s extravagant country home did not disappoint, it oozed the style of the owner, with overstated balconies and balustrades wrapping around the house. He grimaced a little, knowing he could never have provided such luxuries. 

He quietly moved across the grass towards the front of the house, heading towards the window with the brightest glow. He edged closer and closer, blending easily into the darkness. Slowly, he leant over the edge of the window to see inside, steadying himself against the wall as he did so. Nervously, he let his eyes adjust to the flickering candlelight coming from within the room, and took in the scene. A lavish room was laid out before him, with golden trinkets reflecting the flickering candles. Tall bookcases lined the walls and a grand piano occupied a large portion of the room. He barely acknowledged any of this detail, however, as his eyes roamed desperately over the room, stopping abruptly as he noticed a figure reclined on a seat the far side from his position at the window. Dark hair spilled over pale shoulders, a brow furrowed in concentration at the novel delicately open in one hand. Brown eyes, focused on the words on the page. Christine. His Christine. 

Instantly, he was thrown back to that fateful night deep below the opera house, when he forced her to leave with Raoul and his heart shattered into pieces. In his mind he watched her leave, again, for the thousandth time. And for the thousandth time, he questioned what he was doing, why he was here when she chose  _ him _ , the Viscount, not Erik, the disfigured Opera Ghost. What could he offer her now that might make a difference? Make her reconsider a life with him? 

He blinked and refocused on the recumbent figure in the chair, breathing slowly to banish the past from his mind. She was here, she was alive, it was a start. He withdrew from the window and took a slow walk around the property, clocking window locations, room layouts, and crucially, movement from within the house. He saw some evidence of what appeared to be staff, moving from room to room shutting up the house for the night, but no appearance from the Viscount himself. Intrigued, but satisfied his main goal for the evening had been achieved, he silently made his way off the estate and into the nearby woods. It was time to do one of the things he had become very, very good at lately - disappear. 


	2. Closer, Yet So Far Apart

The morning dawned in a series of brightening greys, the grass dewy and the birds loud, all too excited by the scent of spring in the air. Erik cursed under his breath and shifted position on the forest floor, stiff from a restless night. He was used to finding weird and wonderful places to hide away, but it had been a while since he’d spent the night quite so close to nature. 

He ensured as best he could that he didn’t look like he’d just spent the night in a bush and headed back towards the impressive house. He kept an eye on his surroundings, not knowing if the situation had changed and more people might have returned early in the morning. The day was getting clearer rapidly and the sun was gaining warmth along with it, promising a day of blue skies and sunshine. Windows were open at the house and Erik caught glimpses of staff shaking out bed linen and getting the house ready for the day, but it wasn’t that that he was interested in. Having had a small glimpse the night before, he was hungry for another this morning. He wanted to find out more, how she was, what she was doing, but he knew he had to take it slowly. He lay low, keeping out of sight in the gardens, and kept alert to the movements of the house. There was still no sign of the Viscount, much to his relief. 

All of a sudden, he knew she was there. Catching the movement out of the corner of his eye his whole body snapped round to see, as if locking onto a target. There she was, walking slowly out onto the veranda dressed in a light sleeping robe with a cover up over the top. Some servants busied around her, bringing what looked like breakfast out and setting it up on tables as she sat down and arranged her robes. His breath caught once again, seeing her last night had seemed like a dream, it was so late at night and so brief, but now he could accept that it was reality and she was there before him. Finally. Years of dreaming about her, yet denying himself the right to think about what she might be doing, where she might be, seemed such a waste when he finally had her in front of him again. 

He waited patiently for the staff to leave her in peace, and watched her sigh and stare out into the gardens. He didn’t want to get his hopes up, but there was something about her that felt very different - she didn’t look content and full of love, like he’d expect from someone happily married. Erik pushed the thought from his mind, it was simply conjecture at this point and he knew his chances were slim. Just getting to see her one final time and to put the demons to bed would be more than enough. Steeling himself for the unknown, he decided he’d waited long enough for this moment. She was alone, there was no sign of Raoul, he may not have another chance.

Waiting until her gaze fell near where he was hidden in the plants, he balled his fists and gently stepped out and looked towards her. Christine froze, her eyes widened in shock and, he gulped when he detected it, a little bit of fear. He watched her knuckles whiten as she gripped the arms of the chair and felt his feet rooted to the ground, unable to move now she knew he was there. 

They locked eyes, both unable to look away and he felt all the air leave him like a punch to the stomach as he looked into those eyes that were so utterly familiar to him. Feeling pathetic, he raised a single hand in greeting, desperate to do anything to break the stalemate. She swallowed and looked carefully around before giving the tiniest of nods. Taking a deep breath, he moved towards her, each step feeling like it was taking a lifetime. 


	3. An Apparition

Christine had relaxed into a routine since Raoul had left her for Paris, and despite feeling a little lonely at times, she’d felt at peace. The last few weeks before he left had been so fractious she couldn’t help but feel a little relief at some time to herself. Taking time over meals and exploring the extensive book collection in the library filled her days quite nicely, with walks around the grounds when the weather held. She’d even taken to eating breakfast outside now the mornings were warming up which felt like such a treat, and a little like being on holiday. 

A few days after Raoul’s departure she was settled into her best reading chair, lazily reading one of her favourite books. All of a sudden, light goosebumps prickled over her skin in a wave. She shivered and looked around, expecting to see the cause coming from one of the windows left open but there was nothing. The moment passed and she soon felt a bit more back to herself, but she couldn’t quite shift the feeling of being watched. Shaking her head, she picked up a thin blanket hanging over the side of the chair and draped it over her legs, wondering if she’d just picked up a chill from somewhere. She’d definitely ask the servants to set up breakfast in the sun tomorrow morning so she could get some warmth. 

The next morning arrived bright and sunny, just as Christine had hoped, and she felt in a much better mood after the unsettling events of the evening before. Perhaps she wouldn’t be quite as suited to a life on her own as she had hoped! But then, she didn’t need a home quite so large and daunting as this one if she were to be by herself… She shook away the thought. Things were unpleasant between her and Raoul at the moment but it didn’t mean it was the end. Waiting for the servants to leave her, she reached for the cup of coffee they’d placed down and gently took a sip, enjoying the rich taste as she observed their beautifully cultivated garden. 

All of a sudden, the same feeling came crashing over her, goosebumps covering her from head to toe and she froze as a dark shape emerged from a cluster of tall plants. Her eyes widened in disbelief and for a brief moment, she felt fear that she was alone, before the scene fully registered and she realised that beyond all possibility, it was her Phantom standing there. Her mouth dropped open slightly as their eyes locked, instant electricity coursing through her. Her man in the shadows, here, in her garden, back from the dead. It just couldn’t be true. She felt incapable of moving, of  _ anything _ as they stood and stared at each other from a distance, taking in the other after so many years of living in memories. 

Then, to her utter bemusement, he raised a hand in greeting. Like two acquaintances passing in the street, a hand raised in salutation. She had to stifle the urge to laugh at the strange picture before her, this man who’d been capable of so much destruction, who she had so utterly believed to be dead, awkwardly raising a hand in greeting like a shy youngster! She double-checked there weren’t any other members of the household in the vicinity and gave him a little nod, suddenly worried about who might see him. She was pretty certain the staff wouldn’t exactly take kindly to a strange, rather intimidating man appearing in the gardens. 

She watched him approach slowly, the tension between them palpable as they held their gaze steadily, and as he climbed the stone steps leading up to the veranda she stood up shakily. Her body felt too fluid, as if her bones had all stopped working at once, so she held onto the corner of the seat to stabilise herself, taking in a deep breath as he neared, and with it she was fully aware of his scent. It plunged her back into her memories and dreams - the two had become difficult to distinguish in recent years - and she felt her body start to react to his presence, staring into his dark eyes. He opened his mouth to speak and she shook her head furiously, looking around wildly, realising all too suddenly the danger they were both in. 

“Not here!” She whispered, quickly. He raised his eyebrows and again opened his mouth to speak, but she interrupted him. 

“Leave the garden by the gate by the roses, follow the path through the trees and you’ll find a small cottage, it’s vacant. I’ll find you there later. We can talk there. Not here.” 

He nodded, and swept away with a determined step this time. Just as he reached the edge of the lawn he paused and turned back at her, with slightly wild eyes. Under his breath, so softly she knew that only she’d be able to hear it, she heard her name sung gently out to her. Instantly she could no longer stand, the strength sapped from her, and she collapsed to the seat to watch him disappear out of sight. 


	4. Clandestine

Later that day Christine walked slowly towards the small building at the edge of the estate. Previously built for the groundskeeper and his family, it had remained empty since they’d moved out not long after Christine came to the Viscount’s lavish home. She had often found herself escaping to the unassuming building to read, away from the splendour of the main house. There was something comforting and familiar about the small cottage, reminding her of days spent with her father in Northern France. Today, however, her stomach tightened as she approached and her hands shook slightly as they reached to push the front door open, which had been left slightly ajar. She quietly stepped inside, and her breath caught as she saw the figure standing in the kitchen. 

“Erik…” 

The figure turned, and there he was. The Phantom. The Opera Ghost. Stood in the kitchen of this ramshackle little cottage. For a moment she fought back the urge to laugh at the absurdity of it all. This homely scene seemed so far removed from those terrifying times deep in the lakes below the Palais Garnier that she wondered how she’d ever been so frightened of him. But then images flashed into her mind of nooses, and crashing chandeliers, and fire, and Raoul struggling against the rope against his neck… 

“You came.” Erik’s voice interrupted her, and it hadn’t changed a bit. Deep, yet versatile. She knew the power that voice had over her, and for a moment she didn’t dare speak. 

“I... Of course, I came.” She faltered, unsure what to say. The trauma, the absence, the  _ years _ stood between them in the small kitchen. 

“The Viscount?” He asked, eyes a little narrowed but his expression kept carefully blank. 

“In Paris on business. He’s not due back for a few weeks.” She didn’t know why she added the last bit. Erik didn’t need to know, Raoul’s movements weren’t any of his business. Yet she did, and their eyes held for a second too long. 

She looked around at the small kitchen and carefully sat down at the small window seat at the far end, where she’d spent many a peaceful hour reading in the late summer evenings. She looked up at Erik, who was still standing stiffly by the sink. 

“Will this do? I know it’s not much, but it’s warm, and dry if you need somewhere to stay. I like coming here to read sometimes.” 

“It’s perfect. Trust me, it’s a palace in comparison to…” Erik’s words dried up and the unfinished sentence hung between them as they thought of the murky lake, the dripping walls, and the darkness of the Phantom’s lair where they had last seen each other. 

Suddenly, Christine couldn’t bear it. 

“Erik, I’m sorry. You terrified me, that night... I thought you were going to murder Raoul. You had killed already, the chandelier… I couldn’t think straight, I just felt I had to get Raoul to safety. I...my feelings… I was confused, and then...I heard from the guards...I heard you were dead.” Her voice caught in her throat as she remembered hearing the news. 

He stepped forward towards her, and then grabbed the back of a chair as if to stop himself from going any further. 

“I made sure to make it look like that was the case. I couldn’t risk being followed. I had to disappear...after everything…” 

His eyes had softened, and he looked at her now, his vulnerability edging to the surface and Christine saw her Angel of Music begin to reappear, the man who had helped her, coached her to use her voice how it was made to be used, and tears crept to the edge of her eyes, falling slowly down her cheeks. He rushed to her then, the chair thrown aside as he crossed the room in two long strides, squeezing beside her on the window seat and taking her hands. 

“Christine? What is it? I didn’t know whether I should come. I didn’t know what I’d find. Please, tell me, should I leave?” 

As the physical distance between them diminished, so too were years of hurt and grief, and Christine looked at the masked face, taking in his pained expression. Gently, she removed one of her hands from his grasp and raised it to the mask. Instantly, his body turned rigid and his grip on her other hand tightened. 

“Christine-” he started, in a slightly strangled voice. 

“You shouldn’t leave.” Christine said quietly, and carefully removed the mask. 


	5. Reunion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is your smut alert for this chapter. Don't say I didn't warn you!

Erik started to speak as his mask fell away, but Christine placed her thumb to his lips, and he fell silent. His disfigured face was just as she remembered it, but years of playing out past scenes in her head had numbed any sort of reaction to it. His eyes sought hers out, filled with a sort of wild desperation, not unlike those of a prey animal, cornered and helpless. This man, who had once held such power over her, who had appeared as if summoned out of the forest...now, before her, bearing his soul. She had never felt such clarity and certainty as she did in that moment, feeling as if the last few years had just been a waiting game, a series of hurdles she had to complete in order to get to this moment. 

She slowly moved her thumb away from his mouth, grazing his bottom lip as she did so. His grip on her other hand intensified, and for a moment she felt like she might faint from the energy crackling between them. For what felt like an eternity, they stared at each other, years of unsaid words sitting on the tips of their tongues, but failing to come tumbling out. Erik released his grip on her hand and raised one of his own to her face, and at the touch of his skin on hers she felt her stomach jump, her head involuntarily moving into his hand. Her composure betrayed by this small act, she gave way to her body and as she felt his fingers move into her hair she fell forward, kissing him furiously. She felt him momentarily freeze, and then relax into it, kissing back just as firmly. 

His hand moved through her hair and she became acutely aware of the small space they had found themselves in, and just how many body parts were touching. Quickly, they became even more entwined, and without hesitating or breaking the kiss, Erik reached behind Christine and swung her onto his lap. She wrapped both arms behind his neck and suddenly he was standing, holding her tightly as he carried her through the door and into the small bedroom just off the kitchen. He lent over the bed and gently laid her down as she unwrapped her legs and arms from around his body, falling back onto the bed. He stayed bent over her, breathing heavily and his eyes looking deep into hers, an unspoken question searching for an answer. She closed her eyes, leant up to kiss him and pulled him onto the bed, on top of her, and suddenly there was urgency in both their actions. Trepidation was replaced by desire, a furious, burning desire that had sat dormant for years, only awakened by thoughts and memories fluttering to the forefront of the mind, but now ignited, a raging inferno consuming both of their bodies. 

Christine pushed her fingers through his hair as he buried his face into her neck, kissing slowly but with deliberation as he made his way towards her collarbone. She tilted her head back, each touch of his lips to her skin feeling like pulses of electricity. He brought a hand to the top of her bodice and paused, bringing his face back up to hers, again, looking to her for permission. She nodded at him, reaching up and bringing his face down to hers, kissing his lips, his nose, all over his face. He let out a small moan when her mouth touched the disfigured skin under his eye and she paused there, bringing up a hand and lightly running it over the twisted skin. His breath juddered, and he reached behind her, lifting her up and towards him. She brought her hands down, fingernails raking down his neck and his back and at that moment he ripped her bodice off, buttons flying. She laughed in shock as it flew off, and they paused in the moment, laughing at their own desperation. Erik’s eyes drifted downwards and the laughter died as his expression changed from mirth to something else entirely, something far more primal. 

Christine gently took his hands and placed them on her waist as she started to undo the buttons on his shirt. The white silk fell away from his chest, revealing hard muscle covered in a light sheen of sweat. Erik’s hands moved upwards, following the curves of her torso and then, just the lightest of brushes against her breast. She exhaled raggedly and pulled him down on top of her, hands reaching up behind his back as they kissed. He brought his hand to her face, and lightly traced the line of her jaw, running his fingers down her neck, along her collarbone and then again, fingertips brushing her breast as he moved them back upwards. This time, a small moan escaped Christine’s lips and she buried her head into his neck, giving him the opportunity to promptly start kissing her exposed skin. Her neck arched back against the pillows as he carefully placed kisses down the pale skin of her throat, across her chest and then he hesitated for a second, hovering above her. Christine’s breath caught in her throat, just as he took her nipple in his mouth, and very gently flicked his tongue over it. A guttural groan flew out of Christine’s mouth and she marvelled at the sounds that she would never have pinpointed as hers. The noise ignited Erik further and he moved to her other breast, gently moving his tongue over her nipple. Her back arched in response and her hands grabbed at his waist, pulling him into her. His face rose to meet hers and they kissed, lust and longing burning into each other’s eyes. Christine moved her hands down to his trousers and slipped a hand under his waistband. His eyes widened and a small smile came to her lips. He sat back, moved backwards off the bed and released his trousers to the floor. Once again, she felt like she couldn’t breathe as she saw his pale, yet muscular body before her. 

Quickly, he fell forwards and kissed all the way down her stomach, quickly cupping his hands behind the small of her back, lifting them both upwards and removing her skirts in one motion. For a split second she wondered at the fluidity and deftness of the movement, before her mind went blank as he dipped his head and brought his mouth to her most intimate parts. Once again, he flicked his tongue out and for a moment she thought she might faint. For a tall, powerful man everything about him was light and smooth and her pelvis bucked involuntarily, the fire between her legs almost uncontrollable. He slowly moved his mouth up her body, back up her neck and gently touched his nose to hers before kissing her slowly, hands caressing her breasts. She pulled him close to her and he opened his eyes, their faces millimetres apart. Her eyes bore into him, and he reached down to align their hips. Their gaze remained locked, and then, an explosion of movement as he entered her and lust rocked them together, Erik gripping Christine’s hands above her shoulders. They found their rhythm and breathing heavily, Christine pressed her pelvis up into Erik. The fire spread throughout them both, building steadily, and neither kept quiet, moaning into each other as they succumbed to orgasm. 

Christine collapsed back into the bed, chest heaving, looking up at the sweaty, slightly glazed face of the phantom. Of her phantom. Here. Real. Alive. He disentangled himself from her slowly and lay down next to her, gently taking her hand. He hardly dared look at her, the images of her tear-stricken, terrified face as she ran away from him all those years ago, now replaced by a softness he had only seen in his dreams. 


	6. Dreams according to vision

Christine and Erik lay together in silence for a short while, birdsong loud around them and a light breeze rustling the trees surrounding the cottage. Christine knew she would have to get back to the main house before the staff started wondering where she was, or worse still, decided to come looking. They were aware of her penchant for disappearing into a good novel down at the cottage, and the thought of being found like this made her feel queasy. 

Looking up at the ceiling, she was acutely aware of the shape next to her in the bed, and the points where their skin was touching, threatening to reignite the fire that had just consumed them both. Part of her felt exhilaration, disbelief and… happiness, but the other part was just starting to wake up to the reality of her situation. Raoul may be away, but they were still married and she had just been unfaithful in the fullest sense of the word. Worse still, she hadn’t even stopped to think, it had just seemed inevitable once she had set eyes on Erik in her garden. The magnetic pull between them both seemed as strong and undeniable as it was when he used to appear in her dressing room at the opera house, and there was no blaming it on being a young, naive girl anymore. She was entirely responsible for her actions, no matter who they hurt. 

She felt stirring beside her and Erik gently rolled onto his side and brushed a hand against her hair, sending shivers down her body. She reached up to hold it and sat up in the bed to face him. 

“Erik…” 

“I know.” 

“Know what?” She said, a little taken aback. 

“Raoul.” He averted his eyes from her and she sighed. 

“Yes, Raoul. He’s been good to me. So good, and such a gentleman. We’re married, I can’t just ignore that.” 

“It would seem… we just did?” Erik retorted, a little coy. 

“Exactly! It wasn’t right, not really, to do that to him.” 

“You can’t deny it though, can you? With us… it’s different. I haven’t stopped thinking about you since Paris, I tried to forget and move on, accept you had made your choice but this connection when we are together, it’s like a drug to me!” Erik gripped her hand a little tighter and she winced, causing him to instantly let it go and bring his hands to his hair. “I’m sorry, Christine. It’s just… this is all I want. You are all I want. I’ll do anything.” 

Christine smiled softly, and laid a hand on his knee. “I know you will. And I feel it too, of course I do. This wouldn’t have just happened if I had any control over what I feel when I’m around you. But we can’t just drop our lives and disappear off into obscurity, not anymore. I have Raoul to consider.” 

“Are you... happy...with him?” Erik asked, tentatively. Christine looked away and bit her lip. She replied quietly, carefully. 

“I was. We were. But things… they changed, over time. The life of a Viscountess has expectations, and time and time again I found myself unable to live up to them. Navigating the social scene was so exhausting, particularly when I was never truly accepted. I’m not from a wealthy family, I’m not the right… breeding.” She smiled a little sadly and her fingers folded and unfolded the corner of the sheet on the bed that had been pulled up by their enthusiasm moments before. “So I started staying out here more and more, letting Raoul go into the city by himself. He shows up, makes apologies for me, everyone raises an eyebrow I’m sure, but it seemed to be working. But it’s not, not really. Not between us. He’s balancing two lives, trying to coexist in both when really, I feel like mine is slipping away.” She blinked a little and turned to Erik, wondering if she’d gone on too long, but he was listening intently with a sad expression on his face. 

“I’m sure you think I would be pleased to hear all that, Christine, you know I am not the Viscount’s biggest admirer. But I’m sad to hear that it has turned out this way. Living here, alone a lot of the time, with no…” his mouth had started to form the word “family” and he faltered, not really knowing why, but Christine’s expression had changed, hardened somewhat and she wouldn’t look at him. 

“I’m sorry, it’s not my place. You don’t have to tell me anything about your personal lives.” 

“I told Raoul early on that I didn’t want children. I feared for what it meant - the end of my career, no dancing, no shows, no singing. He seemed to understand but as time went on I think he thought I’d change my mind, and when I didn’t, he grew more and more distant. The irony is, with spending most of my time out here now, I’m not involved in the arts anymore anyway. I could be raising a whole brood of children and be at least a little busy. At least that would make him happy.” She said this with bitterness, rather than longing. “I’m sorry Erik, this is too much, you don’t need to listen to me. I’m just a little… starved for company out here and it’s the first time I’ve been able to talk about it.” 

Erik reached for her hand, deftly removing the sheet that was now scrunched up in her fist and brought her close. “You should never apologise. If I can be your shoulder to lean on when you are in pain, then I am complete.” 

They stayed like this for a few minutes, breathing in the scent of each other and enjoying the silence. Erik moved his hand up to her hair and she let out a little sigh that awoke the beast he thought they had just satisfied. Christine felt it too, and she pulled away slightly and looked at him with heavy eyes. 

“I need to get back to the house. The staff will be wondering where I am and we can’t… I can’t… we can’t do that again.” 

Erik felt his stomach tighten and he tried to keep his expression neutral. Christine gathered her things together, getting dressed quickly and straightening her clothes and hair. She grabbed a book from the shelves, just in case she needed something concrete to explain her absence. 

“You’ll stay here? For a while? We still have so much more to talk about…” She looked at him, her eyes pleading and desperate and Erik felt the loneliness bleeding out of her. Everything in him ached for her in that moment, and he would have done anything she asked of him. Anything. 

“Of course I'll stay. Thank you for....” he paused, and then spread his arms out, gesturing at the surrounds, “all this.”

She smiled and left through the door she’d entered by. “I’ll come by again tomorrow,” she said over her shoulder, walking briskly away up the path. 


	7. What's Past is Prologue

Erik watched Christine walk up the path and away from the cottage, his heart the fullest it had been in a very long time. He couldn’t quite believe what had just happened between them. It had almost seemed like they had no choice in the matter, the moment their bodies touched it was like they were following someone else’s choreography, unable to alter the dance. Not that he’d have wished to, of course. He understood Christine’s moral quandary but entirely selfishly, he couldn’t help but feel elated. Whatever existed between them back when he used to appear in her dressing room to guide her singing was not something he had imagined as part of some strange obsession, it was real and the proof was the events of that afternoon. 

Far from giving him a sense of satisfaction, it had awoken feelings in him he had been trying to ignore for years, and all he wanted now was… well, everything. That life with Christine, cosy evenings next to the fire, discussing books and music. And of course, encouraging and supporting her life on stage, because what a waste! He’d managed to control his emotions when that side of the story emerged but inside he’d been seething. Christine’s talent was something he had nurtured, cultivated, and seen grow into something quite magnificent. The Palais Garnier would not have drawn in the huge crowds they did each night Christine sang if it wasn’t for her incredible voice and her natural affinity for acting. She would be the star of any performance, the jewel in the crown of any theatre company. To see her languishing out in the country, alone, was outrageous. At the very least, perhaps he could help in that respect, try and encourage her to pursue her dreams again, even if nothing else came to pass. 

The sun had started to move lower in the sky and the warm tones lit up the trees around the cottage, and so he settled down in the window seat, trying to put aside the all-too-fresh memories of what had happened there just hours earlier. Picking a book at random from the shelves, he tried to concentrate on the words to keep him distracted. 

The next morning Erik awoke to vivacious birdsong, but at least this time he was separated from it by walls and windows, so it felt less of an abrupt awakening. There was bright light streaming in the window, heralding another beautiful spring day and he smiled, feeling the warmth in it already. Suddenly, he froze as he heard a noise by the front door. Moving silently as only he could, he crept to the window just in time to see some movement at the very top of the path but nothing more. Getting dressed quickly, he opened the door to discover a small tray with a plate of pastries, some fruit and some fresh milk. There was a small envelope held down by the weight of the jug of milk and he snatched it up immediately. 

_ Erik,   
_ _ I couldn’t remember how well stocked the cottage was so here’s some things for breakfast. I hope it’ll do. I’ll see you later on when I can get away properly.  _ __  
_ Yours,  
_ _ Christine  _

Erik smiled and brought the tray inside, putting a pot of coffee on to enjoy with the fresh food. Since waking up, there’d been a feeling gnawing away at him that perhaps Christine would wake up and feel even worse about what had happened and he may never see her again. He’d been reassured by her asking him to stay, yesterday, but this morning’s doorstep delivery allayed his fears further, especially with the reiteration of a promise to visit again. 

He enjoyed a slow breakfast before bringing out a manuscript he’d been working on for the last couple of years and let himself become ensconced in the creative process, driving all other thoughts from his brain. 

At some point, a rap on the door startled him and some of his sheets flew onto the floor. Freezing for a moment, undecided between rescuing his precious work and answering the door, he then moved carefully to the window, sighing with relief when he saw a familiar figure there. 

Opening the door, Christine greeted him with a shy smile. She was carrying a basket, lodged carefully on one hip, and he instantly took it from her sensing it was heavy. 

“Oh, thank you! At risk of seeming like some sort of delivery service, I’ve brought you… well, us, really, lunch.” 

“Lunch sounds perfect. I could get used to this!” Smirking at her, he made way for her to go in ahead of him and he put the basket down on the table, instantly turning to rescue his lost pages from the floor. 

“You’re working on something?” Christine asked curiously, handing him a stray sheet from near her feet. 

“Yes, well, I’m not sure at what point it becomes a ‘something’ when you’ve been working on it for years, but I don’t go anywhere without it. The peace and quiet here appears to work wonders for my creativity, I’ve been more productive this morning than I have all year!” 

“I’m glad to hear that. I think being close to nature always helps in that way.”

_ Close to something,  _ Erik thought, but said nothing. Christine started carefully laying out the things she’d brought on the small table in the kitchen as Erik rooted around in the cupboards for some plates and cutlery. Nothing really matched and it was clear that odds and ends of household items had ended up out here over the years. He liked that about the cottage - everything seemed slightly out of place, yet it was warm and welcoming. 

They sat down to eat in companionable silence, helping themselves to the bread and cheese and fresh tomatoes that Christine had brought. After a little while, Christine looked at Erik. 

“So what have you been doing all these years? Apart from pretending to be dead, I mean?” She smiled a little teasingly. Erik looked stricken for a few moments and then smiled sadly.

“It’s not been the most entertaining of times, I must say. I had to leave Paris for a while, of course, I couldn’t risk being seen when everyone thought I was dead. I wandered around Europe, moving from city to city exploring some of the great music halls and theatres, looking for inspiration and talent. That’s when I started working on this,” he gestured at the manuscript that he’d left on the window seat. 

“But after a while I couldn’t run anymore, and I longed for home. I know it wasn’t much, the lake under the opera house, but it was my home for so long. So I slowly journeyed back, hoping that enough time had passed for people to have forgotten the scenes I’d caused.” 

“So you lived there again? The Palais Garnier?” Christine asked, a little wistfully. 

“Yes, they’d obviously cleaned out by the lake, and most of my things were gone - auctioned off, apparently - but it didn’t seem like anyone had been down there for quite a while so I hoped it had been consigned to the history books and I quietly took up residence again. Those fools Firman and André had clearly decided it was all too much for them and taken off, so there was really no one left who might remember everything that happened. It seemed as safe as it ever would be.” 

Christine looked sad, and as Erik reached for his glass of water, she took the opportunity to ask the question he knew was coming.

“There was no one? The Girys?” Her voice came out quietly and Erik replied carefully. 

“Madame Giry still served as the ballet mistress, yes. She’s still there, now, but Meg got offered a leading role in a production in America, of all places, and so she left to make a name for herself over there. Surely you know this, though?” He asked, curiously. 

“I knew Meg had left for America but I assumed her mother went with her. We wrote quite a bit when she was still in Paris and I saw her when I could, but then things went quiet and she was so busy in America there seemed little time for letters. I miss her dearly.” She blinked and looked down at her empty plate, picking up a fork and putting it down again absentmindedly. “So did Madame Giry… did she know? About you?”

“Yes. I agonised about trying to see her for months. I had vowed to return, silently, and to live my life peacefully without meddling. I had caused enough damage by meddling.” His face went blank for a moment and some of the pain Christine knew to be bottled up inside him briefly flickered on his face. “But in the end… I was lonely and I knew she would keep my secret. Or rather, I hoped.” He smiled a little ruefully. “Besides, the new owners were completely useless and had no idea how to run things. They needed a little....guidance.” 

Christine laughed, remembering Firman and André’s attempts to ignore Erik’s requests and the chaos that followed. 

“I hope your ultimatums weren’t so….extreme, this time?” 

Erik looked contrite. 

“Of course not. My…suggestions went via Giry, they never even knew of my existence. Coming from Madame Giry, they were usually taken on board. In fact, I think they were just rather glad of some help with everything. But I made sure to keep my distance, I did not need to end up exiling myself twice within one decade.” 

Christine smiled but it wasn’t overly convincing, and he reached for her hand across the table. 

“I’m sorry, Christine, I didn’t mean for my story to affect you so. The trouble with living alone for so long, you do tend to become a little...jaded.” 

“No, no, it’s not that. I just wonder how different things could have been, especially hearing all about the opera house, continuing on as if nothing ever happened. I’ve believed for so long that you were dead, and yet you were living this whole life I didn’t know. Even if you felt you couldn’t tell me, I wish Madame Giry had. I exchanged a few letters with her before Meg was offered the role in America, she could have said something to let me know you were alive!” 

Erik sighed and held her hand tighter.

“Believe me Christine, I wanted to reach out to you. So, so desperately. But Giry warned me, she told me that you and Raoul had gotten married, and that you were being looked after so well. That you were happy. So I kept quiet, and Giry said she wouldn’t say anything either. It was better this way, we agreed.” 

They looked at each other in silence for a while, both feeling the pain of the years that had passed. Erik’s loneliness, and Christine’s shadow of a life sitting heavily between them. 

Eventually Christine spoke up. 

“So...what changed?” 

“How do you mean?”

“You’re here, now. Something obviously changed.”

Erik sighed and looked over to his manuscript on the window seat.

“I spent so many years working on that,” he gestured at it languidly. “But every time I wrote some music, it was you performing it in my head. I’ve always written for you, and it just seemed... pointless if you’d never get to see it, let alone sing it. I couldn’t share it with anyone, and it just became this huge weight around my neck, this great unfinished work that would end up destroying me unless I could somehow see you again. The more I thought about it, the more it felt like the only option to avoid me suffocating in my own loneliness and kick me out of my creative slump. I begged Madame Giry to let you know about me, to make it your decision whether you’d see me or not, but she refused. She refused to let me know  _ anything _ about your whereabouts, and when I made enquiries in the circles of Parisien aristocrats, I just heard that you hadn’t been seen in a while, but that as far as people knew you were still with the Viscount. I was driven mad by that, worrying that something had happened. Were you hurt? Unwell? And so I didn’t stop until I found an address…” Erik trailed off, looking tired. 

Christine digested Erik’s story for a few moments, and then got up and fetched the manuscript from the window, putting it gently in front of Erik and placing one of his hands on top of the leather covering. 

“Play for me?” 

His heart skipped a beat. In all his dreams this is what he wanted the most. To be composing music for the woman he loved, to sing with her once again. He looked up at her, slightly agape as she opened up a small door to the side of the kitchen, one he’d never bothered going into. He followed her and found a small room with a few dusty pieces of furniture and in the corner a small, unassuming upright piano. She stood by it, her eyes daring him to say no, and he was powerless in front of her. Quickly flipping through the manuscript he pulled out sheet music with deft fingers, knowing exactly what he wanted to play, and placed it in the music holder. Christine moved round behind him to be able to see it better, and feeling more nervous than he had in years, Erik placed his fingers on the ivories and began to play. 


	8. In Dreams He Came To Me

As Erik got into his stride during the piece of music, Christine was able to sight-read over his shoulder and started to hum along to it, picking up the words here and there. Soon, she was quietly singing to Erik’s accompaniment, tentatively at first but growing in strength. They both found themselves lost within the music, Christine reminded of what she so dearly loved, and so dearly missed, and Erik wrapped up in the pure joy of hearing Christine’s voice in tune with his music, singing words that he’d written. The music slowly built up to a crescendo, and Christine felt her voice strengthen and expand with it, able to deliver the notes the composition required at the right moments. She felt eerily detached from the process, not really sure if she was in control of her own voice or if the music Erik was playing was drawing it out of her, filling the room with it. The music and lyrics Erik had composed were nothing like anything she had ever sung before, and as the song came to a close she knew that if he ever chose to make it public, he’d have a huge success on his hands, and she suddenly felt a surge of possessiveness that surprised her when she thought of anyone else singing these words, anyone else on that stage showing off what the Phantom was capable of. She shook her head slightly as Erik played the very last notes on the piano and lightly withdrew his fingers to his lap, and she realised her hands had been clenched into fists by her side. 

There was silence for a minute or two as they enjoyed the memory of the music, and the small room seemed to crackle with what they’d performed together. 

Erik spoke first. 

“Thank you, Christine,” he said simply, with a voice that had a dark, husky edge to it that stirred something inside of her. 

“I...it was, is, my pleasure, of course, Erik.” She stumbled over her words, still slightly breathless from the effort the last part of the song had taken. “It was truly, truly beautiful. Your talent as a composer knows no bounds.” 

“It’s nothing without you. Your voice is beyond compare, and the only voice I ever want to compose for. If that’s what you sound like with very little recent practice, you will have more standing ovations than you can dream of with a little tuition!”

He turned to face her and stood up, clasping her hands. “Please, Christine, please return to the theatre. It is all I dreamed of to be able to hear you sing again, hear you sing my work, but the world needs your voice. You have no idea how talented you really are!” His voice still had the thick, husky quality to it after playing, and Christine looked into his eyes, seeing admiration and desperation there. And something else, something else that she was responding to like a magnet. She held his gaze and was suddenly keenly aware of a fine sheen of sweat covering her like the softest of blankets. Erik was the same, his mouth parted slightly, and she felt herself drawing towards him, accompanied by the echoes of the last refrains of the music in her head. 

A loud squawk from outside the house startled them both, followed by the noise of a pheasant beating its wings furiously. Christine snapped backwards from Erik with a start, as if waking from a trance and she looked around with wild eyes. 

“I should go. What if someone found us? I’ve been gone too long already. Thank you, thank you Erik, the music is beautiful.” 

Erik was speechless, feeling like someone had punched him in the stomach whilst still half-asleep. “Christine, it was just a pheasant. Stay a little longer, we can have some coffee…”  _ We need to finish that moment... _ He left that unsaid, knowing that the seemingly unstoppable attraction between them was what Christine was running from. 

“Another time, I must go. I’ll see you soon.” And she was gone, the door shut smartly behind her and she strode away up the path, disappearing quickly into the trees. 

Erik turned back to the small room and slammed the lid of the piano shut in frustration. He didn’t even know why he felt so annoyed, she had every right to prevent further unfaithfulness, but he was so wrapped up in the joy of finding her again, the thrill of singing with her again, and the possibility of his dreams inching ever closer, that it was hard to remember that Raoul was still a complication. He sighed and tidied up his sheet music, carefully placing it back into the leather binder, hoping it wouldn’t be too long before he could play some more for her. 

Christine hurried away from the house, the further away she got the more the grip on her heart seemed to tighten. She seemed to be waging a war between what she deemed the right thing to do, and some uncontrollable force that seemed intent on drawing her and Erik together. She thought she’d managed to conduct herself well over lunch, but hearing the story of his life since their last parting had softened her resolve, and then to be singing again, singing his music that she knew he’d composed for her, that had broken her. Her body had acted on its own, responding to Erik’s music and then to his voice, and she knew had they not been interrupted she would have stopped at nothing to recreate the previous evening’s events. It scared her a little and she was reminded of the first time Erik had stolen her away down to the lake, the way the power of their voices combined together to create perfect harmonies. How she’d felt terrified initially before the terror evolved into something else entirely, turning into lust and love and feelings of the likes she had never felt before. She was glad that he hadn’t sung with her or she would have been swept away, never to return to the main house again. 

As she reached the gardens she realised she’d returned empty-handed, having left the basket and the lunch things back at the cottage in her haste to leave. She’d have to come up with a story for the staff, one that wouldn’t have them offer to go and fetch it for her. The last thing she needed was the situation being blown open by Erik being discovered, and the two parted again after so little time together. She took a moment to straighten her appearance before entering the house purposefully, heading for the kitchens to offer her thanks and apologies for her temporary theft. 

As the sun began to set and the shadows lengthened in the gardens, Christine finished her hundredth lap of the large sitting room, turning on her heel smartly and instantly retracing her steps in the opposite direction. It had been a restless afternoon, spent tidying her things in the bedroom, giving instructions to the staff, opening and closing the same book several times before giving up and placing it back on the shelf. Now she’d exhausted nearly all options, having made supper last as long as she possibly could without drawing too much suspicion, and withdrawn to the privacy of her favourite room to battle with her thoughts. 

The problem was, she knew she’d made the right decision in leaving the cottage at the point she did. It made total sense and it was the right thing by Raoul. However, she may have  _ physically _ left Erik, but her mind was with him. Her  _ soul _ was with him. Every action that she took, she was wondering if he was doing it too, or if not, what was he doing. Was he working more on his manuscript? If the other parts of his work were anything like the masterpiece they had performed together, she couldn’t wait to hear more. She laughed a little at how quickly her resolve had crumbled - as she stormed away from the cottage earlier that day she’d decided to think very carefully about seeing Erik again, yet she was already dreaming of their next duet. 

She sighed in frustration and stopped her pacing, leaving the room and calling out to the few members of staff still shutting up the house for the night that she was retiring early due to a headache, too much reading she suspected, yes, she must get some more fresh air tomorrow. They bid her goodnight and she closed the shutters in her bedroom, leaving the drapes open to let some air flow through as it was quite a warm evening. Getting ready for bed, she pulled aside the sheet and lay down in the cool material, her mind wandering once more to the cottage at the edge of the woods. She pictured Erik blowing out candles and closing the windows much as she had done, and for the umteenth time that day wondered if he was thinking of her as he prepared for bed, also. Her body ached to return, the small distance between them feeling infinite. Very firmly, she felt something cement into place and she knew she could no longer bear it. Listening carefully to the sounds around her, she felt satisfied that the house had joined her in an early night, with no further sounds from downstairs. She got up and pulled on a long coat over her nightdress, not wanting to light candles to find anything more appropriate to wear, and buttoned up it covered her well enough. 

Having gone to bed early, by the time she’d quietly let herself out of the house the sky had fully darkened and stars were just beginning to wink at her from the heavens. Luckily, they’d bestowed a bright, nearly full moon to shine down on her and so she was able to carefully pick her way through the garden and down the path to the cottage without too much difficulty. It was eerily quiet and the snap of twigs and crunch of fallen leaves underfoot was far too loud, so loud that anyone else in the vicinity may well hear it too. She hoped that she was quite alone, and was not inviting the gaze of hungry wildlife, or opportunist highwaymen. 

As she approached the cottage something looked wrong, and she realised she must have taken a slightly wrong turning. Luckily, Erik clearly hadn’t gone to bed yet as the flicker of soft candlelight was gleaming from the windows. It was this that had made her realise she’d taken the wrong path, as the windows ahead of her were the ones from the bedroom, not the front of the house. Taking care not to fall, she made her way round to the front and stood for a moment to the side of a tree, unsure what her next actions should be. The plan had been so clear when she slid out of her bed, the desire so strong, but stood alone in the dark outside the house, she wasn’t so sure. 

Suddenly, something lunged from the bushes and grabbed her from behind, a hand quickly held over her mouth. She froze as her fears were confirmed that there clearly were treacherous characters out in the dead of night, and her heart pounded loud in her ears. She heard a sharp inhale and a voice. “Christine?” 

Barely managing a small “mmf” as she recognised Erik’s voice with a huge wave of relief, she felt the pressure release from around her waist as the hand flew from her mouth, grabbing her hand instead and she felt herself pulled inside the cottage. 

“What on earth, Christine?! I have hearing like a damned cat, I assumed all the noise was coming from a beast or a no-good vagabond trying their luck at looting this place, what were you doing skulking around in the dark, it’s not safe!” 

“Clearly,” Christine smirked and her hand rubbed the place on her waist where he’d grabbed her. Erik looked dishevelled, his shirt half undone, his usually perfect hair half over his face, and he was slightly out of breath. He grimaced at Christine, opening his mouth to apologise but she stepped up to him quickly. 

“Don’t apologise. You weren’t to know. Besides, it’s...what I came for.” Now she was here, there was no denying the physical attraction from earlier, even more so with his unusually unordered appearance. Erik looked confused at her answer and she grabbed his hands in hers, placing one back on the spot she’d just touched on her waist, and placed the other one up against her cheek, his palm lightly brushing her lips and sending goosebumps down her neck. She looked up at his face and saw his eyes burning back at her, filled with desire but she could see him holding back. 

“Earlier, you left, I assumed you didn’t want...this.” Erik trailed off, weakly. 

“It was the right thing to do. But now I’ve spent the rest of the day torturing myself with thinking about you. Thinking about this. How am I supposed to do anything when I’ve got your music playing in my head? I can’t bear it anymore, Erik, I can’t stop thinking about you.” 

His hand on her cheek tightened and she slid her hand, that hadn’t moved from his after placing it, up his arm and pulled his head towards hers. Like a dam breaking, she felt Erik stop holding back and he kissed her furiously, with her reciprocating just as vehemently. Unlike the first evening, which had felt like a gentle, loving greeting, something else entirely possessed the two of them this time. Their hands roved like desperate teenagers, feeling every curve, every bone, snatching at bits of clothing. Christine had found the front of Erik’s shirt and made short work of the few buttons that had remained done up and it flapped open exposing his muscular torso. Quickly, she slid her hands over his shoulders and pulled it down, letting it drop to the ground, instantly forgotten as she kissed him with abandon. Erik’s hands moved to the front of her coat and deftly dealt with the buttons, eyes widening in surprise as he saw what she was dressed in underneath. 

“I see you came with intent.” His eyes danced with delight.

“I’d already gone to bed when I decided on this bizarre excursion. I couldn’t very well start trying on outfits, could I?” She pouted a little at him, and he laughed, pulling her to him tightly as her coat joined his shirt on the floor. Christine grabbed at his hand and leaned away from him, urging him to follow her and for the second time they made a hasty entrance to the bedroom. Erik stopped at the threshold, and Christine turned back, quizzically, seeing the mirth had disappeared from his face. 

“Christine… are you sure? I know you care for...him,” Erik couldn’t bring himself to say the Viscount’s name whilst looking at his wife in so little clothing. “I don’t want you doing anything you’ll regret.” 

“Erik, I’ve crept out of my house like a thief, risked being attacked in the woods, to come here to see you. I’m not proud of how I feel but I can’t stop thinking about you. About us.” Her voice lowered and she walked backwards slowly, sitting on the edge of the bed. 

“I love that you’re trying to be such a gentleman, but right now, I’d really rather you stopped.”

“Stopped?” Erik asked, his breath slightly caught in his throat, feeling confused. 

“Stopped being a damned gentleman!”

“Oh.” Erik smiled and stepped forward, raising an eyebrow. “And here I thought you were just here to sing with me again.” 

“Oh Erik, I want to sing. I want to sing for you, I want to sing with you, but right now, I want you to make me sing.” Christine yet again felt the strange feeling of her body being taken over by forces she couldn’t control. She was wild, the purpose which had carried her out of the house and into the woods in the dead of night was possessing her now, and Erik’s refusal to come closer was driving her mad. 

Erik couldn’t quite believe the same woman from lunch was in front of him, the calm, poised Christine from earlier who had fled at the slightest sign of things developing, was now in front of him practically begging him to touch her. She was sat on the edge of the bed, staring at him now, her eyes refusing to break contact with his as she slowly reached behind her and undid the sash keeping her nightdress tight to her body. It fell away, the material gaping slightly at the chest and he caught a glimpse of the rise of her breasts. He could feel himself quivering, frozen to the spot by the speed of the evening’s events. Before he could move, she had removed the garment and flung it to the floor, sitting back with her entire body exposed to him, lit gently by the candles flickering around the room. 

“So, do you  _ still _ want to be the gentleman?” She asked, her turn to raise an eyebrow at him. Erik found his mouth completely dry and he ran his tongue around his lips to moisten them. This small action elicited an involuntary moan from Christine as she looked at him impatiently. 

“Well…” he smiled coyly, and approached her, drinking her in from head to toe. “It seems you’ve made that decision for me.” 

She reached for his face as he leant in over her and kissed him with a strength he didn’t know she possessed. He broke away from her and she groaned, looking exasperated with him, but he just shushed her and gently removed his trousers, before sinking down on the bed next to her. 

“I suppose I always knew what my music did to you, I should have played you some more,” he murmured, his face right next to hers. 

“My angel of music,” she murmured back, before using one hand to pull his head to hers and the other to pull his body even closer to hers. “It’s you, and your music, this is what it does to me, I can’t control myself…and only you can satisfy it…” She reached for one of his hands and brought it between her legs, desperate for his touch. He inhaled sharply at feeling quite how wet and ready she was, and he gave himself fully to her in that moment, giving in to the quivering beast that had waited so patiently with coiled springs to be released. He gently slid a finger over her wet entrance and up to the clit, where she practically dug her nails into his shoulder in delight. He let his finger dance around it for a while before dipping slightly into her entrance and she thrust her pelvis up, the feeling of his finger being completely engulfed spurring him on. She kissed him, rocking her hips against him and he kissed her back, coming up for short, ragged breaths. He gently removed his finger and she whimpered, pressing herself up against him and finding his straining erection. He laughed, and pushed her further up on the bed, bringing his wet finger up to one of her nipples and stroking it gently. Her eyes were slightly glazed and she panted at him. “Please, please Erik.” 

He pulled himself slightly away from her and cool air gently blew in from one of the windows left slightly ajar and he saw her nipples stiffen in response. Leaning down, he took one in his mouth and let his tongue caress it whilst holding her other breast firmly. She writhed beneath him, her chest rising and falling quickly with her breath. He gave one last flick with his tongue and drew back from her, their eyes finding each other in the candlelight. He trailed a finger down her stomach, stroking the inside of her thigh with his nail and lightly running it over her clit and entrance again. She closed her eyes and sucked air in, and when they opened again he knew he couldn’t help himself any longer. He reached down, positioning himself at her entrance, letting the tip just make contact, but he had no time to take the next step as she moaned as soon as the tip touched her and pushed her hips forward, enveloping him completely. He let out his breath in one go and reached for her, and they crashed together, kissing uncontrollably and thrusting together in rhythm with each other. Just as their performance in the afternoon had built to a crescendo, they too felt the end building. Erik slipped a hand down between them and gently stroked her clit in time with each thrust and Christine lost it, his name coming out in breathless gasps, and he felt himself follow suit, climaxing inside her. He held his position, gripping her hand tightly and removing his other to support his weight as they both shuddered into each other. Slowly, he gently lowered himself onto her and shifted his weight to the side, disengaging from her. Her eyes opened and she looked up at him, her skin gleaming with sweat, her hair slicked back with it at the temples but spread out wildly behind. Erik leant his own sweaty forehead against hers and she curled up into him. 

“You’re perfect,” he whispered. 

“That was perfect,” she retorted, with a smile, “even if you did almost have me begging…”

“Almost, my love, almost,” he lightly kissed her forehead and then slowly pulled away. 

“Where are you going?” Christine asked, worry creeping into her voice.

“I’m not letting you traipse back through the woods at this time of night. You’ll have to stay here and we’ll sneak you back in the morning.” 

Christine’s brow furrowed as she thought through the options, but getting back in the daylight appealed, as she wasn’t convinced slipping back into her house in the dark would be as easy as it had been getting out. She watched Erik quietly leave the bedroom and saw the flickering lights go out, and the door locked. He came back to the bedroom and she admired his taut body as he put out the last few candles in the room, slowly becoming just a dark shape in a dark room. She felt him pull back a sheet from the bed and moved to get underneath it, feeling his body push up against hers. She reached for him, the ache inside her satiated but still feeling this primal desperation to be touching him. He pulled her close with a strong arm, and she curled into him, drifting off almost immediately. 

Erik awoke to the birds singing with an even greater veracity than the morning before, but this time he was thankful. For a minute or two he prepared himself for the evening before having been entirely in his dreams, but as he opened his eyes in the grey light making its way through the shutters, he made out the shape of Christine next to him. Never in his dreams had he thought she might come to him like she had. He felt more content than he had in his life, and dreaded having to wake her up to face another day of sneaking around. By the dim light coming through the window and the loudness of the birdsong he deemed it was very early, and the perfect time to get Christine back to the house before anyone worried, so he gently leaned over and brought a hand to her face, pushing back the hair from her forehead. She stirred, her eyes opening a crack. 

“Christine, it’s still early, we should get you back home.” He swallowed on the word “home”. He wanted this to be their home, their forever. This moment, waking up next to her, couldn’t last long enough. 


	9. Fighting Gravity

Back in the bedroom in the house after successfully sneaking back under cover of the dawn chorus, Christine lay in bed watching the sunrise from her window. You might not immediately notice the subtle changes of the greys to pinks and oranges, but they became very obvious as the colours grew richer and more spread out. The time moved slowly as she watched nature’s greeting to the morning, feeling serene and at peace. The rose-tinted filter of the sunrise made the complex situation with Erik seem simpler, easier somehow and she allowed her mind to play hopefully with scenes of them together, playing music, reading casually, or Christine stepping onto the wooden floorboards of a stage in front of thousands of people who were there to see her, Erik supporting from the wings. It all seemed a very possible future when you were able to forget about the present. 

Unfortunately, the present had a nasty way of making itself known, and as the bright colours faded from the sky, leaving a pale blue dotted with floating clouds, she heard a carriage pull up in front of the house. No visitors were expected, the staff had been to the markets yesterday so no deliveries were due either, which made it stand out all the more. Quickly, she ran to the window and looked out, turning white when she saw her husband stepping out of the carriage and thanking his driver before heading towards the house. He wasn’t due back for at least a week, and there had been several social events in the diary that she knew his attendance would normally be expected at. What on earth had brought him back? He couldn’t know about Erik, surely, they’d been so careful and it had only been a couple of visits, despite it feeling a lifetime since she’d spotted the shadowy figure on the lawn. It couldn’t be that, so perhaps he was ill, or he’d received some news. He’d looked jovial enough, though, so whatever had brought him back early didn’t seem to be too terrible. This gave her some relief, surely if he had somehow found out about her and Erik he would not have such a pleasant smile on his face. Her stomach swooped slightly at this, no matter their differences and the steady ebbing away of her romantic feelings for him, Raoul was still her husband and still the man that had cared so deeply for her for so many years. What she’d done to him wasn’t right, but the damage had been done now and somehow they’d have to find a way through, however painful. 

Quickly getting back into bed she pretended to be surprised and delighted when the Viscount quietly entered her room holding a small tray with coffee and breakfast. Cradling her coffee and biting into a pastry, realising how hungry she was after her late night activities, Christine asked about Raoul’s unexpected arrival. 

“My most important meetings this week were cancelled, and I only had one engagement that I absolutely had to attend and that was last night,” he explained. “So I sent my apologies to the other social appointments and came right on back this morning. I thought about coming back late last night but decided I might give you a fright rather than a pleasant surprise!” 

_ If only you knew quite how much of a fright you might have had... _ Thinking of the empty bed that Raoul would have come back to, and the panic that might have ensued, she let out a laugh that didn’t quite seem to fit the moment but Raoul didn’t seem to notice. 

“How have you been, here all alone, my dear? When I thought of you being by yourself for such a long time, I was quite relieved when my meetings were cancelled!”

“I’ve been quite alright, I’m not exactly alone anyway, the staff are excellent company and I have my books and music,” Christine couldn’t help but read into her own words, she hadn’t been alone at all, and she’d certainly heard some wonderful music. Her mind drifted down to the cottage and what Erik might have done upon his return from escorting her back. He didn’t seem the type to sit in bed watching sunrises, although it wasn’t like that was a normal hobby of hers, either, until this morning. 

“Christine?”

Raoul interrupted her thoughts and she realised that he’d been talking whilst her mind had been elsewhere. 

“Sorry, I’m still a bit tired, what was that?”

He smiled gently at her and stood up from the edge of the bed.

“I’ll leave you be so you can get up in peace, I forgot that I woke you up! Take your time and I can catch you up on the city gossip downstairs.” 

Thanking him guiltily as he left the room, she couldn’t help but sigh in relief. Her mind returned once more to the cottage and she knew she’d have to warn Erik. If he took the chance to come up to the house again, or he drew too much attention to himself, who knew what might draw Raoul to him? 

Later that day, Raoul finally excused himself to his study to catch up on some correspondence. It had been a tiring morning, Raoul polite and hovering, ever courteous, and Christine civil but distant. She wasn’t sure if it was because he’d been away, or if he’d sensed something different, but he was being even more attentive and loving than he had been in even the first few years of their marriage. It was slightly unnerving yet somehow sweet at the same time, and not wishing to completely rebuke him, she tried to respond in the expected way but her mind was simply incapable of focusing on him. The moment he seemed engaged enough in his study she threw on a light coat and quietly put her head round the door of the study. 

“Raoul? I’m just going to go for a walk around the gardens, get some fresh air and enjoy the sunshine.”

“Of course, my dear! I could accompany you, if you wish? These letters can wait.”

Christine tried to stop the flicker of alarm showing on her face and she shook her head.

“No, you go ahead and work, I’m quite used to my own company.” 

Raoul smiled gently and nodded at her, his gaze returning quickly to the papers in front of him and she hurried away, leaving the house by the front door and deliberately taking the longest way round to the cottage so that he wouldn’t catch sight of her from the big windows of the study. 

The trees gave way to the small clearing that housed the little building and her heart skipped a beat as she approached. The memories of last night were fresh in her mind despite the morning’s surprises and she felt herself flush red at the thought of seeing Erik again so soon. The cottage was coming to symbolise everything that she dared to hope for, with its unassuming outward appearance but warm and homely feeling inside. It seemed silly to think that of it as theirs, but nevertheless she did, a little home for the two of them, away from the pressures and expectations of the real world. Sighing, she raised a hand and knocked lightly on the door, hearing the answering footsteps almost immediately. 

The door opened and she instantly felt self-conscious as his eyes raked over her, taking in her flustered, slightly out of breath appearance. He raised an eyebrow.

“Again?” 

Despite herself, despite the news she was bringing, she laughed, and he swept her inside with a firm arm and shut the door behind them. For a moment she let herself be enveloped in his scent, and leaned into him, treasuring the few minutes they had where nothing had changed, and yet everything had. Erik cupped her face and lightly kissed her, sending her heart soaring and her body yearning for a time when this could be their normality. Gently she pulled away.

“Erik…” 

Instantly his expression changed from one of joy and delight to one of dark concern, flickers of worry dancing across his forehead. Christine swallowed hard. 

“Raoul’s back. Early this morning.” 

Erik stepped back sharply, unable to help himself casting a furtive glance towards the windows. 

“He’s not with me, you fool!” She snapped, feeling hurt at how little he must trust her. Instantly he looked stricken. 

“I’m sorry Christine, of course I didn’t think you’d bring him, I just wondered if he might have followed you.” 

“I was careful, that’s why it’s taken me most of the day to get down here to warn you. I think it’s best you stay hidden as much as possible just in case and…” she felt her voice betray her, suddenly thick with emotion, “I’m not sure I should come here for a few days. It’s too risky.”

“I understand,” Erik reached out and took her hands in his, clasping them tightly. “I’ll wait here. I promise, I’ll wait.” 

Christine looked back at him and moved in to kiss him. For a while they were both lost in the moment, revelling in the taste of each other, not knowing when they’d be able to steal the time again. Eventually they broke apart and Erik walked Christine to the door, watching her leave with longing etched over his face. He closed the door firmly and sat down, wondering if he’d ever imagined this reality when he set out on the mission to find Christine again. To be fair, he’d never really allowed himself to think much further than the journey, too worried about what he’d find, too terrified of the potential of rejection. Having to wait to see her again was a small price to pay for the last few days of unexpected joy that he’d had with Christine, but he couldn’t help but be concerned for what might happen with Raoul. He had no wish to see the man again after he’d taken Christine away all those years ago, and now that he’d learnt how the Viscount had let her talent fade away, let her step away from the spotlight, he felt nothing but anger towards him. 

Christine walked quickly away from the cottage, an awful wrench pulling at her heart. The moment she stepped inside she had felt complete again, the kitchen feeling like home and Erik’s embrace exactly what she needed, the stilted morning with Raoul instantly forgotten as their lips touched. The afternoon sun had disappeared behind a bank of clouds and she drew her arms around her as she came through the last of the trees, wishing she’d brought a thicker coat. The last few days of bright sunshine had lulled her into a false sense of security that spring had progressed further towards summer, but there was definitely still a chill in the air. 

“Christine!” 

The shout startled her and she stumbled over a root, reaching out for the trunk of a tree to regain her composure. Looking wildly around, for a moment she felt her heart leap in hope, checking behind her in case Erik had followed. Instead, Raoul appeared at the edge of the trees and looked relieved when he saw her. 

“Christine! Finally, I’ve been looking everywhere for you! Aren’t you cold?” 

“I suppose I thought it was warmer than it is, this morning it seemed so bright and sunny…”

Raoul nodded but there was something unsettled in his expression. 

“I thought you said you were walking around the gardens?” 

“I was, but I like to go into the woods, too, it’s so peaceful here and the birdsong is just lovely.” Christine answered smoothly, trying to keep her expression blank, but her stomach knotted with worry. 

Raoul looked unconvinced and looked back at the path Christine had come from with narrowed eyes. She scrabbled around quickly for something to change the topic. 

“So you haven’t caught me up yet with all the goings-on in Paris, Raoul?” 

He smiled widely and dove straight into the various stories of the Parisien elite and she breathed easily again as they walked together towards the house. 


	10. Season of Change

Erik sat at the kitchen table absentmindedly looking at his manuscript. The late afternoon sun was filtering in through the windows, dappled from the trees surrounding the cottage. It had been a full day since he’d last seen Christine and he couldn’t help but think of her constantly, the few days they’d had together were now branded into his mind. It was sensible for her not to visit him with Raoul around, the risk was too great, but it didn’t make the reality of it any easier. It felt cruel, this glimpse of what life could be like dangled in front of him and then whipped away so soon, but he knew he wouldn’t trade it for the world. 

He sighed and put aside the manuscript, standing up from his chair. He’d spent too long already going over and over the scores he’d already composed and feverishly coming up with more and more, his mind more inspired than it had been in years and he longed to show Christine some of his new material, longed to hear her sing with him. Casually drifting over to the window he wondered how risky it would be to steal a glance of her up at the house - he was after all, most skilled at hiding and being invisible. 

It no longer became an option when all of a sudden he was distracted by movement at the edge of the clearing, and he froze, daring to hope that Christine had managed to sneak away so soon. His heart skipped a beat as a figure entered the dappled sunlight, but as he recognised the man looking curiously at the building he stepped back from the window quickly. 

Raoul. 

How had he found out? Was he so distrusting of Christine that he’d had her followed so soon after getting back? Had a servant somehow found out and told their master? Thoughts raced around his head and his heart pounded. He wasn’t afraid of Raoul, he’d almost killed him before and could do so again, but he was afraid for what it meant for Christine, what it meant for their time together. 

Raoul’s eyes swept over the window that seconds before Erik had been standing at, and then started approaching the front door, noting the path through the grass that was very obviously well-used. This in itself shouldn’t be alarming, surely he knew that Christine used the cottage for reading. He kept on coming, however, and Erik gritted his teeth, refusing to be cornered like a spitting wildcat. Just as Raoul reached for the door, Erik threw it open with a flourish. 

“You!!” Raoul recoiled in shock, and Erik registered the fleeting look of disgust and horror as he took in his unmasked face. Being around Christine had meant that he often forgot what he looked like, ever since their first reunion he hadn’t bothered with the mask, knowing that his face didn’t concern her. Raoul however, was clearly very concerned. 

“My dear Viscount, how wonderful to see you after all these years. I do trust you are well?” He let his voice slip into the steely, angelic tones he could command so easily and Raoul’s neck flushed crimson. 

“Don’t you dare, don’t you dare ask me how I am when you nearly killed me and my wife! You’re supposed to be dead!” 

“Oh come now, it was only you I nearly killed. Besides, I’ve moved on, can’t we let bygones be bygones?” Erik smirked, but inwardly he cursed, he had hoped he could maintain civility for Christine’s sake but something about the boy brought out the absolute worst in him. 

“What are you doing here, you monster? You have the audacity to be on  _ my  _ land, in  _ my  _ house?!”

Erik looked bemused and spread his arms, gesturing at the house. “I don’t see you living here? I am simply passing through.” 

Raoul spluttered and tried to stand up straighter to look Erik in the eye, but Erik’s lean form had several inches on him. 

“Get out of my property before I report you to the police for trespassing. You had better not come anywhere near my house, or Christine.” 

Erik stepped forward and onto the step outside the house, forcing Raoul to take a step backwards. 

“Christine?! You have the audacity to ask me to stay away from Christine when you have hidden her away like a delicate little trinket? Denied her the stage, her glory, bottled her talent?!” Erik’s voice rose, but each word was delivered with steel-cut precision. 

If it was even possible, Raoul’s neck turned a deeper shade of red and it crept up into his face. He clenched his jaw and the words came out with a slightly strangled effect.

“Who says I’m bottling her talent? I’ve provided all that she’s asked for, it’s not my fault she stays hidden away here. She chooses to! You think  _ you _ could have provided a better life for her? Down in your dark lair?” He scoffed and Erik felt his anger boiling over as Raoul’s words exposed one of his greatest fears over the life he could offer Christine. Before he knew what he was doing he’d taken a great stride forward and grabbed Raoul around the neck.

Raoul, however, had seen him coming and as Erik’s hand connected he swung his fist up, striking Erik’s jaw from below with a thud. Erik recoiled, relaxing his grip on Raoul and the Viscount took the opportunity to back away and put some distance between them. 

“You have no idea how much I’ve been wanting to do that ever since you got your rope around my neck. Just thought I was too late once I heard you were six feet under!” He grimaced with a slightly satisfied look, to which Erik responded with a guttural cry and flung himself at Raoul, knocking him to the ground and pinning him there. 

“Christine deserves to sing again, she deserves so much more than this, than  _ you _ . I love her, Raoul, I love her more than you will ever be able to and I will give her everything,  _ everything _ ! We have been so happy here, before you-” 

At those words, Erik realised he’d given away more than he should have done, and Raoul’s expression blackened with anger. With fury behind him he pushed up and threw Erik off, and the two stared at each other bitterly from the scuffed ground. 

“You have been spending time with my wife?” Raoul asked, the words coming out slowly, his voice quieter, more dangerous than it had been so far. 

“She found me here.” Erik kept calm, keeping his voice noncommittal, but this only seemed to enrage Raoul further. 

“So you truly have no respect for the sanctity of marriage? You turn up here and enchant my wife  _ once again _ , leading her astray with music and theatre?” 

“She came to me, Raoul. She volunteered her feelings. She asked  _ me _ to play for her. She…” Erik trailed off, feeling like he was betraying Christine somehow. 

“She  _ what _ , you mangled beast? What on earth does she want from you that is better than this life with me?”

Erik swallowed and glared hard at the Viscount. 

“ _ Everything. _ I can give her everything she wants, everything she desires. I will stop at  _ nothing _ . I suggest, my friend, that you  _ talk to your wife _ !!” 

Raoul pushed up from the floor and Erik sprung up to meet him just as he was barrelled into a tree by the enraged Viscount. The breath slammed out of him and he gasped for air, his eyes burning back at Raoul. Just as he opened his mouth to speak they both heard a scream pierce the air and Raoul jumped back from Erik as if he’d been stung. 

“Stop it! Stop it  _ now _ !” It was Christine’s voice, shrieking at them as she flung herself into the clearing, hair flying and dress torn in several places. 

“Christine!” The two men had called out to her at exactly the same time, and they turned to each other again, bristling with anger. 

“Don’t you dare you two, I said  _ stop it! _ Raoul, my dear, I am so sorry, I didn’t know how to tell you…” She reached them and took Raoul’s hand, guiding him further away from Erik. Erik found his chest searing from his meeting with the tree, but even worse was the pain at seeing Christine take Raoul’s hand like that. This couldn’t be happening again, not  _ again.  _ They’d come so far. Just before his world cracked open once more, Christine turned to him, holding Raoul’s arm tightly in an effort to stop him rounding on Erik. 

“This is not your fight, Erik. Leave us be for a while, I’ll be back.”

Raoul spluttered next to her. “You’ll do no such thing!” 

“Enough, Raoul! You do not own me, I am not yours to command. I may have let things get out of hand but we need to talk,  _ please. _ ” 

Erik watched her tug Raoul away, and eventually both of them disappeared from the clearing, Christine casting one long glance over her shoulder at Erik before they did so. Erik met it steadily but he couldn’t decipher what she was trying to convey, and once she was out of sight he collapsed to the ground, the injuries to his chest and jaw making their pain known now the adrenalin was fading. 

He slowly stumbled his way back into the cottage and felt a darkness overcome him. He’d been so sure, so certain that being with Christine was fate, he’d overlooked quite how complicated it would be for her. A marriage was not something you ran away from easily, especially not from someone so high-born. 

_ Please, please don’t let it end like this, not again. I didn’t mean to complicate everything so much, Christine… _


	11. No Return

Christine entered the house, Raoul following her in. They’d walked up in complete silence, Raoul still seething - it had taken all her effort just to get him to come with her out of the woods, had she let go of his arm she was certain he’d have streaked off to go another round with Erik. It was probably pretty satisfying for him to have finally landed some blows on the man who’d nearly killed him, but her heart was hurting for the injuries she’d seen Erik sustain. 

The house smelled of cooking, the preparations for dinner clearly underway and wafting in from the kitchens. Christine’s stomach rumbled in response and she wondered if they’d get a chance to eat or if they’d be having their own verbal fisticuffs shortly. She looked sideways at Raoul but his face was set, jaw clenched and eyes looking straight ahead. 

“Raoul?” 

“Not now, Christine. I should get changed and cleaned up.” 

He had a valid point, his shirt was ripped from where he’d hit the floor as well as being coated in a fair amount of dirt. She realised that she too, didn’t look in the best state, having caught her dress on some brambles when she’d noticed Raoul was missing and sprinted down through the woods. 

“I should too. See you at dinner, then?”

“I’m not exactly hungry,” he still wouldn’t make eye contact with her, but his expression did soften slightly. “But yes, I’ll see you there.” 

Dinner wasn’t much better than their return to the house. They ate mostly in silence, Raoul pushing food around on his plate rather than actually eating. Eventually, having seen him do several laps of the plate with the fresh fruit the staff had presented them with after the main course, Christine had had enough. 

“Raoul, please, enough of this. Can we talk about it?”

“I’m not really sure what there is to talk about, it seems quite clear to me where your loyalties lie.” 

“Oh Raoul, come on. I love you, of course I do, but this marriage has been hard work and you know it. The last few weeks before you left, we barely stopped bickering! Not to mention how much you love your trips to Paris and I...well, I don’t.”

“So it’s been difficult, so what, you seek out the arms of that maniac the moment I’m gone?” 

Raoul still wouldn’t look at her and his expression was stone cold, continuing to push fruit around his plate. Christine sighed. 

“No, Raoul. I’d fully intended to have an honest conversation with you once you’d come back about us, our future. It wasn’t working, even before. The last thing I ever expected was to see Erik turn up here, I thought he was dead - we  _ all _ thought he was dead! Don’t you dare think I somehow planned this.” 

“Funnily enough, I’d thought the opposite. When I came back from Paris I wanted to talk about how we could make things work, how we could improve our lives. I was going to suggest that you come away with me on the next trip and see Madame Giry, perhaps start up some classes again. But I see you’ve already laid the blame for your exit from the theatre firmly at my door, or at least, that’s what that damned man seemed to imply,” he face turned to thunder at the memory. “We could have talked about these things Christine, but to hear them from  _ his  _ mouth…it’s just...” he trailed off, consumed by anger and distracted himself by taking a drink. 

“I know, and I’m so very sorry for that. I wasn’t expecting you home early and I wasn’t expecting you to find out that way, I wanted to tell you about it myself. I just...spending time with him, it reminded me what things could be like. You’re so special Raoul, you’ve been so wonderful to me, but wouldn’t it be better if we could both have what we want, rather than both of us making compromises?”

Raoul was silent for a few minutes, staring at the table with his brow furrowed. Christine wasn’t sure whether to speak again or not, but she kept quiet, pushing her plate away and nursing her glass of wine. Eventually she heard him exhale slowly.

“And that’s what you want?” He finally looked at her across the table. “Him?” 

Christine swallowed. 

“I want my career back, mostly. I want to sing again, I want to be part of the world of theatre. I can’t do that being a Viscountess,” she blinked away some tears that were threatening to creep into the corners of her eyes. “But… yes. I’m so sorry Raoul, I really am. The last few days, after the shock of seeing him again, they’ve been wonderful.” 

“He’s a murderer, Christine.” 

“I know. I know what he was, Raoul, I was  _ there _ . Why do you think I chose you? But he’s changed, he’s different now. His life is hard, it always will be, but he’s trying to do good things now. He only came to see that I was alright. It was me that asked him to stay.” 

Raoul slammed his fist on the table and glared at her.

“Damnit Christine, he’s a madman who _kidnapped_ you and tried to _kill_ _me_ , how can you really be saying you’d be happier with him than you would with me?!”

“I don’t know, I know it doesn’t seem logical and I  _ know _ it looks terrible. But when I’m with him...it just... works! I’m not a child anymore, he’s not pretending to be anything he’s not. He wants to help me to sing again, and I want that, too. He’s changed, I promise, he’s a kind and loving man at heart… he’s just had a terrible life.” 

Raoul pushed his plate away and stood up angrily. 

“Loving?” He spat the word out at her, his eyes challenging her across the table. 

“Raoul -” 

“Was he? Was he... _ loving _ with you?” His tone was less upset and more venomous now.

“Oh come on, you don’t actually want to know that, do you? It doesn’t matter what happened, it matters what we do now.” 

As soon as the words came out, Christine knew they’d been a mistake, they sounded more childish and patronising than she’d intended and already Raoul was gripping the chair in anger across the table. 

“Well that tells me all I need to know, doesn’t it?? You both clearly share a total disrespect for marriage. It may not have been working, Christine, but I didn’t deserve that.” 

Christine finally let the tears that had been threatening to come slide down her cheeks. The dreamlike quality of the last few days had been shattered by Raoul and he was right, of course. She’d treated him with total disrespect. She stood up and went over to him, reaching for his hands but he took a step back, his face blank and her hands fell back to her sides. 

“I’m so truly sorry, Raoul. Everything got so out of hand. I never wanted to hurt you like this.”

He looked at her then and she saw the pain etched on his face, and once again she tried to reach for his hands. He let her after a brief hesitation, and for a moment they stood, mourning the end of something that had begun a lifetime ago, as children playing on beaches. Raoul stepped back away from her once more. 

“I understand that you didn’t mean for this to have happened, Christine. But it has, and it was wrong, so wrong for you to do that to me. There is no going back from this now, even if we wanted to. This...us... it is over, now.” 

Christine felt fresh tears falling and she stifled a sob, it wasn’t an unexpected outcome but she felt torn apart at how she’d handled matters. Raoul wasn’t faultless in the breakdown of their marriage but he hadn’t been the one to throw it away so quickly, either. From the moment she’d walked into the cottage and seen Erik standing there she’d known she was lost, her mind and her body just felt so complete when she was with him, and none of that was Raoul’s fault. She took a slightly juddering breath.

“I understand, Raoul,” she whispered. 

“I’ll sleep in the guest room, tonight,” he murmured, and stalked away, proud but with a great weight on his shoulders. Christine watched him go, feeling heartbroken and yet a small part of her felt the first flutterings of freedom, but she tried to bury those feelings - it was too soon, there were too many bridges to cross, first. 

She retired to the bedroom and prepared for bed, thinking of how so much could have changed in just a few hours. A day ago she’d felt so consumed by her need for Erik she’d snuck away to spend the night with him. How had she not thought about the consequences of her actions? But she knew why. It was the same reason she’d had to run away from the cottage when she’d sung his score, the same reason why she hadn’t screamed when he appeared in the garden. A small part of her had always been his, ever since he’d tutored her as a young woman. Even once she’d discovered who he really was, even when she was running away from him with Raoul, frightened and unsure, she knew, knew a part of her belonged with him. Thinking him dead all these years had laid that part of her to rest, but it still existed, and it was a part of her she’d never given to her husband. Setting eyes on Erik once more had simply reignited it, and there was no hope of putting that fire out now. 

Christine blew out the final candle and collapsed into bed, exhausted from the intense emotional toll the evening had taken. The nighttime noises were comforting, an owl softly hooting and a breeze lightly rustling in the trees. Her mind drifted towards what the evening’s events might mean for her and Erik, and she found herself unsure. When they had thought they had days ahead of them together down in the cottage, it all seemed quite simple, but questions loomed large over what they would do, where they would go now that Raoul had agreed it was over between them. Questions that didn’t need answering now, she told herself firmly, and so eventually she drifted off to sleep. 

The morning came around too quickly and rain pounded against the window, a spring shower making itself very well known after so many days of warmth. Christine sighed, she couldn’t help but feel that the weather was playing a bit of a cruel joke, ending the sunny spell just as things had become so difficult. Opening a window, the heavy scent of petrichor floated in, impregnating the room with what felt like nature’s sigh of relief. Christine breathed deeply and prepared herself for the day, not in any kind of denial over how difficult it was going to be. She longed to see Erik and tell him what had occurred but it was too soon to be seen scurrying away to him. 

Downstairs, she was greeted with the sight of bags by the entrance hall and for a moment she panicked, thinking that the bags were hers. They didn’t look familiar, however, and she was just about to inspect them when Raoul stepped out from his study. 

“Raoul? What-”

“I’m leaving. A carriage is coming to pick me up and I’ll be back in Paris by this afternoon.” 

“Raoul no! This is all my doing, I should be the one to go.” 

“Go where?” Raoul asked, bitterly. “Unless the Opera Ghost has some fresh lair for you both to retire to, I imagine you need some time to make a plan. As much as this whole situation pains me beyond comparison, I care for you and if giving you some time to plan your departure will help you, that’s what I want to do.”

“That’s... I…” Christine was at a loss for words. “You... You are truly a gentleman, Raoul, I have never deserved you. Thank you.” She could see that he was angry and in pain from his too rigid posture, the stilted words and the way he couldn’t quite bring himself to meet her gaze. But despite all of that, he was trying to make it easy, for both of them. 

“I ask one thing. I will be back a week today. You, and  _ him _ , will be gone.” 

“Of course. Of course, Raoul, and thank you.” 

“I need to speak to the family lawyers in Paris about what we do from here. I want this handled as sensitively as possible, you understand, to protect the family name. I’d appreciate it if you do not flaunt this...  _ situation _ until we have agreed a strategy.”

Christine smarted at that and bit her lip. “Don’t be a fool, Raoul. I wouldn’t be that spiteful.” 

Raoul’s face softened a little and he nodded. 

“There’s breakfast already laid out in the dining room. My carriage is due shortly,” he swallowed, for the first time letting his steely demeanor slip. “Goodbye, Christine. And for what it’s worth, I am sorry too. I truly loved you, and I think that blinded me to how incompatible we were, in the end.” 

Christine felt her eyes prick with tears again. 

“I’m sorry too - I’ll always be sorry. I’ll do anything you need me to do.”

Raoul picked up one of the large bags and opened the front door, looking back at her one final time before walking outside. Christine let the tears fall once more, and retreated back upstairs to her bedroom, not wanting to see him leave.


	12. Truce

Erik had awoken feeling like he’d drunk half a bottle of brandy, his throat as dry as straw and his head pounding, which only added to the dull ache from his jaw where Raoul’s fist had connected so well. He stumbled through to the kitchen to gulp down a glass of water and as he did so his eyes alighted on the old, dusty bottle of brandy left near the sink and he groaned - he felt like a dog because he  _ had _ drunk half a bottle of brandy. The threat of losing Christine again, the remorse at so spectacularly messing with her life, and the feeling of being totally left in the dark had forced him to hunt through all the cupboards in the cottage, finally coming up trumps with the particularly vintage liqueur. The coping mechanism had worked, for a while, but the consequences in the morning light were dire, the regret filling him as he slowly sat down in one of the kitchen chairs cradling his head. 

A sharp rap on the door nearly made him cry out in pain as the knock rebounded around the inside of his skull, and he panicked. It could only be Christine, and what would she think, finding him like this? The rap came again, and he barely had any time to recover from the noise when the door flew open, hitting the wall with another bang and revealing Raoul’s figure, drenched from the spring rain. Erik gaped, his fogged brain unable to come up with any of his normal smooth comments. Raoul, too, seemed taken aback at Erik’s appearance, and for a moment their strange tableau remained frozen as the two stared at each other. 

“Well, don’t you look a state,” Raoul eventually spoke, looking at Erik with distaste. Erik rubbed his temples tiredly.

“I’ve been called far worse, Raoul.” 

“I believe it,” the Viscount cast his eye around the kitchen with his eyes narrowed, his lip curling slightly as he saw the door to the bedroom ajar. 

“I am not a bad man... _ Erik _ ,” the name seemed to push its way out of his mouth, his teeth fighting the choice to humanise the man before him. “I loved...I love Christine. I think that blinded me to what I wasn’t able to give her. She’s not...she’s not like other women.”

“She is not,” Erik confirmed, unsure as to what Raoul was getting at, part of him wondering if this was a particularly cruel brandy-induced hallucination. Raoul seemed to be battling with himself, fists clenching and unclenching as he stared at Erik. 

“I know what you two...did, here,” his rigid form grew even more taut and he looked away from Erik. Erik looked down at the floor, too, his pale skin flushing red from the neck as snatches of memory flew unbidden into his mind. Raoul let out what seemed like a growl at Erik’s reaction, and took several strides forward into the kitchen, at which Erik jumped up from his chair and backed up against the stone work surface. 

“If you’ve come for round two, I understand, Raoul,” Erik rubbed his jaw absentmindedly, not overly keen to add to his injuries. “But what you also have to understand is that what there is between us, it’s like an unstoppable force! It was not my intention, when I came here, I swear.” 

Raoul held his composure, glaring at Erik for a few more moments before relaxing and stepping back towards the door. 

“I didn’t come for a fight, not really. Christine said you had changed, and I can see that now. I’m sure had this been another time, I wouldn’t have even survived our scuffle the other day,” he smirked as Erik shrugged non-committedly but he knew the thought had crossed his mind. 

“I am a man, not a monster. I try hard to ensure my actions display that these days.”

“Good. Because this is the thing, I’m leaving - my carriage is waiting, I’ll be in Paris by this afternoon. Christine knows. I, too, am trying not to let my anger dictate my actions. I always knew there were three people in this relationship, I just thought that one of them was dead... but I suppose you always did enjoy being a ghost, didn’t you?” 

Erik’s face was shocked, and for once he was speechless.

“Christine has my conditions for my departure. I’m sure she’ll be informing you of them very soon,” his voice had turned bitter again. “But I also have conditions for you. You said you can give her everything, I expect you to do so. Take care of her, do everything I haven’t been able to. Do not drag her down to your level. I wish to see her go on and do wonderful things, if I can’t be with her,” he turned around and stepped outside the cottage. “But, Mr Ghost, I really rather hope this is the last encounter we ever have.” 

Erik blinked, but composed himself quickly and stepped forward to catch the door before Raoul pulled it shut behind him.

“You have my word, I promise. And Raoul?” he met his gaze solidly as Raoul turned back towards him. “I misjudged you. I’m sorry for that. Thank you for my second chance.”

Raoul nodded curtly and strode away, disappearing quickly into the line of the trees. Erik exhaled loudly and shut the door, casting a longing glance at the empty bottle of brandy. Never in his wildest dreams had he thought that an encounter with the Viscount could be that civil. Despite his overwhelming dislike of the man, he was impressed by Raoul’s sacrifice and composure. He had every right to have stormed in and landed another punch after what he’d done with Christine, but he had chosen to give them a chance at a life together, recognising that neither of them were happy with the current situation. Erik felt the slightest smile creep across his face as he realised what this meant, that despite the sorrow he was sure Christine would be feeling, they had a future. It was no longer dreams and fantasy, it could be reality - their reality. 

A few hours later another knock on the door came, this time more hesitant, gentler. The morning rain had petered out leaving behind heavy clouds, but apart from the trees dripping with moisture, it was overall a much nicer day than earlier. Erik felt more human again now, having washed, changed and rehydrated, and so he opened the door with less panic than the first morning’s knock had induced. Christine stood in front of him, looking small and tired. 

“Christine, my dear, come in,” Erik pulled the door wide and gestured her in ahead of him. She looked like the lost young girl he’d first come across, an orphaned ballet rat trying to find her way. He gently guided her to a chair and she sat in silence for a moment, hands neatly folded in her lap. His mind flashed back to her coming to him, goading him, in the dead of night and it was hard to imagine the two women were the same. 

“Raoul’s gone,” she spoke softly, interrupting his thoughts. “He was angry, but not unkind.” 

Erik sat down opposite her, and covered her hands with his.

“In the end, even I have to admit he is a good man, even if we never saw eye to eye,” Erik touched his smarting jaw lightly with a hand, and a flicker of concern appeared in Christine’s eyes. 

“I’m sorry Erik, with everything I had forgotten you were hurt.” 

“It is nothing you need to be concerned about. There aren’t many who can normally land a punch on me, your man did well,” he smiled, hoping to lighten the mood but Christine’s eyes dropped. 

“He is no longer... my man. He has left me - gone away, to Paris. He says he’ll be back in a week, and by that time, I’m to be gone,” she raised her eyes and looked at Erik. “And you, too.” 

“To find yourself indebted to the man you have wronged is a strange feeling, indeed,” Erik mused quietly. “I think these years have changed us all, in different ways.” 

Christine let out a small sob and Erik leant forward, wrapping his arms around her as she cried. He felt conflicted, a part of him was elated at his dreams finally coming true, but the other part knew that this was not easy for Christine, after many years of marriage. Eventually, he felt her ragged breaths subside and she regained her composure, pushing away from him and a small seed of doubt planted in his belly as he saw her hardened expression. 

“Erik...what we have done...I’m not proud of it,” she stood up, turning away from him and placing her hands on the cold stone of the kitchen countertop. “I’m not a child anymore, this thing between us... it’s terrifying. You’re always in my mind, I feel your presence when you’re not even around, I can’t control myself around you. You come back from the dead and I destroy my marriage within days… Surely, this isn’t healthy?” 

Erik felt frozen to the spot, all the joy he’d been quietly feeling at the thought of their future together evaporating. 

“Christine, no. I can’t explain what this is between us, but I’m not  _ afraid _ of it. It’s new, and it’s different, and it is definitely intense, but surely you can sense how right it feels?” 

“I know. I do feel it, but it scares me. It’s been barely any time since you arrived here and my whole world has changed. It just feels...fast. A week ago I thought you were dead!” 

“I know, Christine, I know. You’ve been living a life you thought you knew - with Raoul, here, and the Phantom of the Opera something long forgotten. It wasn’t right for me to burst into your life like this, but I had no idea this thing between us would be so...consuming…after all this time.” 

Christine was silent for a while and then came back to sit in front of Erik. 

“Not forgotten,” she whispered. Erik looked at her quizzically. “I never forgot you. Learning of your death... I mourned you, Erik. Raoul couldn’t understand,  _ wouldn’t  _ understand why I felt so bad, so guilty at your death. You and I... we’ve known each other a long time. I wouldn’t have sung as well as I did, had the opportunities I did if it wasn’t for you.” 

“That’s why this is right, my love,” Erik gripped her hand. “It may feel fast now, but it’s been so many years coming. It didn’t go how it was supposed to last time, this is our second chance!” 

Christine nodded slowly. 

“I came back, you know.” 

Erik blinked, not sure what she meant.

“Came back?”

“A couple of days after I left with Raoul. It was such a whirlwind, but I couldn’t help but think of you. I came back to the Opera House to find you. But even when I found my way down to the lake, I saw it was empty, the police had been through everything. It was horrible. That’s when I learnt you were dead.” 

Erik’s mouth was suddenly very dry. 

“You came back… but why?” he rasped. 

“I don’t know, I suppose for the same reason you finally found me here, something felt unfinished. It had just felt the right thing to do at the time, to leave with Raoul...it felt safe. You scared me that day.” 

“I’m not that man Christine. I was blinded by passion and rage at the world. The years since gave me perspective and clarity, and these last few days… I wouldn’t change them for the world.” 

“Had I known you were alive...I don’t know if I’d have married Raoul. And I suppose...that’s ultimately why I’m here, and Raoul’s gone. It’s not fair to...lie to myself, or to him.”

Erik realised he understood Raoul’s words from the morning, about how there’d always been the three of them in the relationship. Like the ghost he’d played at the theatre, he’d haunted their marriage for all these years. 

“This is why we have a second chance now. We can begin again,” he placed a hand gently on Christine’s cheek and tilted her head to look at him. “Christine?”

She responded by looking into his eyes and kissing him deeply. Erik pushed his hand into her hair and drew her to him, his body relaxing in relief and desire. After a few minutes of passionate kissing, their hands slowly wandering over each other’s bodies, gently, Chrisine pulled away, and took his hands in hers. 

“We’ve got all the time in the world for...that,” she said, softly. Erik nodded, knowing it wasn’t the time, they were both still exhausted from the outcome of the last day. Christine gripped his hands firmly and rested her forehead against his, for the first time allowing a sense of relief to wash over her. 

“You’re right, Erik, it is time. Time for us to begin again.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there it is - my first Phantom fic in around 15 years. Gulp. Thanks for coming along for the ride and I hope you enjoyed it. Comments/feedback/kudos all welcome and appreciated. I love these characters so much!


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